


Catcher of the Wolf

by Jen963



Category: Three Little Pigs (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Humor, Phony - Freeform, Short Story, pig - Freeform, wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29845608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen963/pseuds/Jen963
Summary: A retelling of the Three Little Pigs fairy tale in the style of Holden Caulfield from J. D. Salinger's novel "Catcher in the Rye," written as part of an assignment many years ago in high school. Censorable words were optional for the assignment and I chose not to use them.





	Catcher of the Wolf

If you think about it, no one really cares about another person’s life. I mean, really cares. Anyone could ask me what happened last summer, and I’d say, but they wouldn’t actually listen. It kills me.

Anyway, in case someone actually cares, last summer me and my two pig brothers were kicked out of our house. It wasn’t anything bad, just it was “time to go out and experience the world.” Our mother is a phony. She really is. She is always saying things like that.

So, my brothers leave first, and each build a house of different materials. I mean, we are related, and can never come to terms on anything as mundane as building materials. Even I disagree. I built with these ugly bricks. The stick house was pitiful. The straw house was outright sad. Only one of my doggone brothers would be that stupid. I swear we can never agree. 

One day, this doggone wolf came and wanted to eat me. This phony actually wanted to eat me. And I thought I was a madman. Anyway, he blew down my doggone brothers’ houses first. I never did find out what he did to them, and I don’t necessarily want to know. That’s the problem with society. They don’t care. They just want to know, and then not care. It kills me.

When the wolf came to my home, I locked him out. It was the smart thing to do. With no success, that doggone wolf tried to blow down my house. Who is that stupid to blow at bricks? I swear he is the biggest phony I’ve ever met.

Before long, the wolf gave up. He said, “why don’t you come to pick turnips with me at 6 o’clock. We’ll have a blast together.” “Have a blast.” If there is anything I hate to hear, it’s that. I nearly puked. At the same time, I suspected a trap. You always suspect a trap with these phonies. So I went at 5 o’clock. Crummy, I’d admit, but these phonies don’t know better. I really ticked off that doggone wolf. He arrived two minutes late, which I pointed out, and I had my turnips, which I promptly threw away. Who eats turnips? No one.

So he asks to pick apples with me. I was curious what he would do this time. Some phonies learn quick, so I would have to be careful. I’m a madman to not just say I’m sick and can’t go. I swear I am.

I leave an hour early again, but so does the doggone wolf. He traps me up the crummy tree. What a phony. I just throw an apple to misguide him and run. What an idiot. I get home safely with my apples. At least apples can be made into something tasty. I swear, my grandmother made the best apple pie.

The next day the pain in the backside wolf tells me the doggone fair is in town. He’ll meet me there at three. I swear when people say that they are crazy. That wolf is crazy. But I did want to go to the fair. So what I did, I left when the fair opened. Those doggone fairs are all the same, more or less. I only went for the food. I swear that’s all most people do at fairs. I did buy this doggone barrel. Darn near saved my life, too. The phony wolf came early, and as I left, he came all tough and proud looking. Right. He couldn’t even touch me these last few days. I hid in the barrel and rolled all the way down the path and rolled over the wolf.

I don’t blame the wolf for taking drastic measures. I really don’t. That phony finally thought to enter my chimney. Everyone has a chimney, and he finally thought to climb down mine. I happened to have a cauldron of boiling water there for supper. The irony kills me. He fell, and was killed by the boiling water. I swear he did. That’s the thing with phonies. They don’t look or think. They really don’t. 

Whether or not you believe this happened, or even care, that’s what happened. To be honest, I’m kind of sad that doggone wolf died. It was fun tricking him.

**Author's Note:**

> This assignment earned me 97 out of 100 points, so I guess it was good.


End file.
